


A Taste of Honey

by seamusdeanforever_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamusdeanforever_archivist/pseuds/seamusdeanforever_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Bec.</p><p>Slut!Seamus is having trouble with the concepts 'rejection' and 'monogamy'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Cora: this story was originally archived at [Seamus/Dean Forever](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Seamus/Dean_Forever), which I opened in 2002, and which was closed in 2005 when the server that hosted it was closed. To re-open the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2015. An announcement was posted to OTW media channels, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Seamus/Dean Forever archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/seamusdeanforever/profile).
> 
> ***
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Maybe you want to give me kisses sweet,   
But only for one night with no repeat.   
Maybe you'll go away and never call   
And a taste of honey is worse than none at all.   
\--Smokey Robinson, "I Second That Emotion"   
***  
It was Dean's fault.   
  
Seamus had been planning to be good tonight, to put on his pajamas and brush his teeth and tuck himself under the covers like a nice little boy, but Dean, already stretched out across his bed when he got there, panther-lithe and promising, had very effectively ruined that plan. He trapped Seamus on the mattress, and it was close and squished and confined and right. Safe. Held. Made him feel protected and possessed and warmly excited in a way no one else's touch could rival. Dean kissed like he looked, like he spoke, dark and heavy like chocolate and rainstorms, demanding and caring, his slow tongue calming the feral flickerings of Seamus's. Dean was sweet, and Seamus knew very well how sweet he himself was, and they would be so, so sweet together.   
  
Tilting his hips up, Seamus slipped his fingers under the waistband of Dean's pants, and Dean stopped. It wasn't the panicked freeze that Seamus knew so well and could accept more easily, from someone who simply wasn't emotionally ready for that level of physicality. Dean stopped, and it was a conscious decision on his part, as though he could flick off a mental switch and go coldly from lustheatsex to...frowning into Seamus's accusing face, disappointed. He probably could. Freak.   
  
Dean, soft and rational and blinking calmly, said, "Why does it have to be...with you... Can't you just..." but didn't seem to be capable of finishing sentences.   
  
"What? What? Just tell me."   
  
He didn't answer, just rolled off Seamus's bed and pulled the drapes halfway closed around his own, and Seamus wondered where he got off, looking almost angry like that. If anyone should be angry in this situation, well, it wasn't Dean.   
  
So it was Dean's fault that Seamus pulled Harry to him by his bedside, his book still in his hand. Kissing Harry was not confusing in the least, it was sudden and fierce and flirted at the edge of pain, and usually continued like that all through the sex, and Harry wasn't terribly considerate, which was oddly refreshing. What was confusing, however, was Harry shoving him away, guilty shock written across his face, and mouthing "I'm sorry" over his shoulder. At Dean, Seamus turned and saw. The hell?   
  
And it was Dean's fault when Seamus climbed onto Neville's bed next. Neville was very nice and always laughed at his jokes and was lovely to curl around, soft spare body and wispy pale hair, and it was a complete surprise when Neville sighed shyly before he even touched him and said "I'm not in the mood for your games tonight, Seamus."   
  
Ron was watching all this, sitting cross-legged on his pillow, and Seamus saw him grin and thought maybe he wouldn't have to go become a monk somewhere after all.   
  
"So kind of you to grace me with your presence."   
  
Seamus yawned and fell onto his back. "Just saving the best for last."   
  
"You lie so prettily."   
  
"Well, I thought maybe you and Harry..." Seamus trailed off as Ron glared at him and pulled his drapes shut around them with brisk, irritated motions. Apparently a sore subject tonight. Okay. "Or not."   
  
"What about Dean?"   
  
"It's his fault."   
  
Ron placed two fingertips on his cheek and turned his head, meeting his eyes squarely. "No, I mean what about Dean?"   
  
Flinching, Seamus looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."   
  
"He's your favorite."   
  
"So?"   
  
"So, if you stop -- this -- with everyone and his sister, he'll be with you."   
  
"That's not fair."   
  
"It's not about fair, it's about...never mind. Have you ever been told that you're crazy?"   
  
"Constantly. Hey, what happened at dinner? I saw Hermione stop you from jumping Draco Malfoy. Not in the good way."   
  
"Yeah." Ron rolled his eyes and lay back. "I don't know why she stopped me. I could take him."   
  
"Forcibly?"   
  
Ron grabbed the pillow from underneath his head and shoved it over his face, making a muffled sound of protest. "No! That's disgusting! Malfoy. Eeew."   
  
"Not eeew." Seamus noticed the light tinge of red appearing along Ron's neck, and inclined his head to breathe against it. "Think about it. You can't deny that he's attractive. He'd be...oh, so very angry about it, and he'd try to hide how aroused he was, but he wouldn't be able to, and..." Ron shivered and tried to clap a hand over Seamus's mouth, but Seamus held it tightly and kept whispering, lips moving damply over his skin. "And maybe he'd have a spot, like you, a sweet spot," and Seamus sucked roughly on the pulse-point at the corner of Ron's jaw and felt him stop resisting immediately, and he pushed the pillow off Ron's face and moved up. "Or maybe you'd have to kiss him breathless," and Seamus proceeded to do so to Ron, pouring all the frustration and confusion of the past several minutes into it, "and then he'd let you..." he tugged at Ron's shirt and moved away to pull off his own, "do anything."   
  
Seamus stopped talking while they undressed, and Ron managed to look relieved and disappointed all at once, and then closed his eyes, resigned, when Seamus settled on top of him and started again. "He's always so guarded, always...like he's playing a part." They started a quick rhythm of thrusting, Ron's hands in Seamus's hair, Seamus licking and nipping at his nipples in between words. "What would it be like...to see past that...to get inside To see him wanting...needing...needing you. I think -- he'd never tell you in so many words...but he'd want it so badly -- I think he'd want you to fuck him." Ron gasped and came, and Seamus a few moments later, kissing him.   
  
After a minute, Ron rolled away and glowered at him. "Why'd you do that?"   
  
"Because it's fun!"   
  
"Oh, no. Malfoy. Help."   
  
"Sweet dreams," Seamus said, and smirked at Ron's expression. 


End file.
